Each Crime and Every Kindness
by Lena Liz Carter
Summary: This is the story of what would happen if one man and one girl met in the rain. Suddenly, Enjolras has to deal with the fact that he is alive when he meant to die. Éponine lost the only thing she cared about. Can you rise from the ashes of everything that mattered and fly again? AU, Enjolras/Éponine. Possibly Éponine/Grantaire bromance.
1. One Day More

_Motto: Our lives are not our own, from womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future. (Cloud Atlas)_

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**This is my first Les Mis fic. I have never really shipped characters who never talk to each other in canon, but I've stumbled on couple of Enjolras/Éponine fics and fell in love with those two. I personally think that their relationship would be much more interesting than Marius/Cosette.**

**Please, review, I'm happy for any feedback. I am not a native English speaker, so feel free to point out any grammar mistakes you find.**

**Anyway, to the story itself. It's a what-if alternative universe, based mostly on the 2012 movie, but I might add hints from the book or different adaptations. It begins during Éponine's On My Own. But what if someone found her in the rain? What if she weren't an invisible person at the barricade? What would happen, if someone saw her and stopped her?**

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**1. One Day More**

The letter in her hand felt heavy like a stone. A love letter from Cosette, the skinny little thing her mother used to bully, to Marius, the only man who had ever been kind to her. A goodbye letter, as Cosette was leaving the very next day. A letter that was never meant to be in _her _hand.

She had seen Marius all excited, but there had been still a little hope. Éponine hoped that Cosette would not return his feeling. She could be engaged, about to enter a convent, or simply not interested. Marius would have been heartbroken, of course, but Éponine would have been there to comfort him and maybe, just maybe...

She was daydreaming again. She could see Marius beside her, weeping at first, but then looking at her and, for the very first time, actually seeing her. A kiss in the rain, a small wedding, and a couple of years later children. They would have a boy, a little scamp like Gavroche with Marius' freckles. And a little girl. Éponine would buy her a blue hat like the one she used to wear in the times when she was the lucky one and Cosette was the other girl.

A distant neighing of a horse woke her up and reality hit her again. Cosette loved Marius back and he was either going to find her and stay with her forever, or die in the revolution tomorrow. Éponine was on her own. There was no Marius for her, no freckled boy, no blue hat for her girl. Only the rain.

Éponine collapsed on the ground in tears.

* * *

Enjolras had been on edge ever since Marius started what Grantaire called "ooh and aah". He had a revolution to lead and he didn't have time to worry about broken hearts. And more importantly he needed Marius to come to his senses. If he got cold feet because of some pretty eyes, who know how many other boys would remember somebody who was more important than the freedom.

He watched his friends for a moment. They were all smiling, their eyes shining, and every now and then someone started a cheerful song. Flags, cockades, guns, and bottles of wine were passed around. _A world is about to dawn, _he thought, when someone breathed on his ear. Enjolras winced, pulled away slightly and turned around. Grantaire was grinning at him, clutching his wine, and Enjolras had to wonder again what interest did this man have in revolution.

"Danse macabre," Grantaire said, pointing to Jean Prouvaire, who grabbed some girl and tried to waltz to a march.

_Dance of Death. _Enjolras felt chill running down his spine. For how many of them was this morning going to be their last? Maybe they were all going to die... _Marius. The head full of his girl can be full of bullets tomorrow. Grantaire. The red stain on his shirt is wine today. Tomorrow it can be blood. Combeferre. The voice that is talking about philosophy today can be screaming in pain tomorrow. Courfeyrac. The eyes that are moving from one person to another, trying to absorb and memorize every detail, can stare at the sky blankly before the sun sets tomorrow._

Tomorrow...

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. The café was full of people and even though Enjolras was more or less the center of the rebellion, it wasn't too hard to slip outside. Only when he was standing on the street he realized that it was raining. He welcomed it. He started walking and remembered the day he had sneaked out during a storm to see where the ducks hide from the rain. The old memory made him smile. He had been about ten and he had come home sneezing. His mother had told him he's going to catch his death of cold.

_It's not going to be cold, mother, _he thought.

He didn't know how long he had been walking when he noticed someone in the shadow. First he thought it was a policeman, but those didn't usually cower in a puddle of water. Enjolras came closer and when the person looked up, he saw a girl. She looked miserable and her face was somehow familiar, so he asked:

"Are you all right, mademoiselle?"

A nearby window opened and in the light he could see her better. The wetness on her cheeks was not all rain. Something finally clicked to place and he remembered where he knew her from.

"I know you. You're the girl who's following Marius around, aren't you? Eveline, right?"

"Éponine. And you're Enjolras, the leader of _Les Amies de l'ABC_. I've heard your speeches," she said.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Don't you have a home?"

She smiled bitterly. "Not really. Don't worry about me, monsieur. Go fight for freedom."

_No more poor girls like this after tomorrow, _he thought, but something was telling him that poverty wasn't the reason behind her tears. Still, she didn't look like she wanted his help, so he got up.

He made a few steps in the direction he came from, but he paused. He didn't even know why.

"Did you like them?" he said. "My speeches?"

"There was a lot of passion in them," she replied. "You have heart."

He turned to face her, disbelief and anger silencing his compassion. "That's all? Passion? If people follow, that can be the future of France! No more hunger, no more parasites feeding on us, no more slavery! Don't you believe that tomorrow can be better?"

_Tomorrow... _A little voice in his head repeated this word and it sounded suspiciously like Grantaire.

Éponine got up and walked to him. Her dress was clinging to her and it showed how thin she really was. Her hair was sticking to her face, but Enjolras noticed that she stopped crying.

"I believe that you're all going to die," she said. "Tomorrow."

The sentence left him speechless, something that didn't happen to Enjolras very often. His brain seemed to dissolve in the rain as Éponine came closer.

"But everybody has to die someday. Tomorrow is as good as any other day," she added and Enjolras was sure she wasn't talking about him and his friends any more.

"For France?" he asked.

She shook her head. "For him."

And suddenly Enjolras understood her perfectly, like she understood him. Without thinking he held out his hand and she took it. For a moment their fingers intertwined in the rain.

"_Vive Marius Pontmercy_," he whispered softly.

"_Vive la France_," she answered.

* * *

She left Enjolras in the rain and went home. It wasn't the first time she dressed as a boy, her father's scams sometimes required a handsome boy, a role Thérnandier himself couldn't pull off.

_Éponine, she know her way around, _they used to say about her and it was true.

But that was over. She was going to the barricade. Maybe she would to fall side by side with Marius. Maybe Enjolras was right after all and they would do win freedom of France. But then she remembered his face in the rain and she wasn't so sure.

She thought of freckles and a blue hat and wanted to cry again, but she didn't. Instead she walked to the place where most of the students were going to be.

The street in front of Café Musaine was full of people. Marius and Enjolras were standing in the window and they both looked like kings. Marius looked sad, but ready, and so handsome. She felt like she could watch him for hours, but her eyes wandered to Enjolras. She was too far to see him properly, but he seemed calm. Maybe he too was happy to have Marius by his side, she knew they were good friends.

Then he noticed her and their eyes met over the crowd. She mouthed _vive la France _and he smiled a little.

Maybe dying for freedom was the best thing they could hope for. Or maybe the best thing was dying for freedom together. Because what was there to live for?

The first rays of sun painted the dirty windows on the top floors gold. The day was dawning, tomorrow became today, and it was time to go.


	2. Some Will Fall, Some Will Live

_Motto: Even the smallest person can change the course of future. (Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring)_

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**Another chapter, this time a twist comes and about halfway through this chapter the story of the musical changes and the true AU begins. I hope you like it. Please, review, I would love some feedback.**

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**2. Some Will Fall, Some Will Livw**

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Enjolras was fascinated by the fact that nobody even noticed Éponine. She moved among his friends, she helped to build the barricade, sang with them, and nobody saw that she was not a boy and not supposed to even be there. He wanted to protect her somehow, but she was a free woman and he was not entitled to tell her what to do.

"This is not your fight," he told her during the long hours of waiting.

"It's mine more than yours. Look at your clothes and mine," she gestured towards her worn-out jacket, which was still an evening dress compared to the rags she had been wearing the night before. "You fight for the poor, but you're not one of them."

"Does it matter?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you can't win someone else's battle." She looked at Marius, who was talking quietly to Combeferre. "But winning is not the point here, is it? You tell them that, you tell that to yourself, but you lie."

"If we win, good. If we die, we might become the martyrs they need," he said quietly. "Either way we can't lose. The revolution is always going to happen."

Éponine didn't say anything.

"He's back," somebody called and Enjolras ran to see their spy returning. _I have to ask what's his name, _he reminded himself.

It turned out he didn't have to. The very moment the spy finished his report, little Gavroche called: "Liar!"

Enjolras turned to the spy and saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.

"Good evening, inspector," Gavroche called. "I know this man. It's inspector Javert!"

The name Javert was whispered in the streets of Paris with fear and now they found out why. The man was a fighter, and a good one. It took five of them to knock him out and tie him up in the café.

After the fray everything went quiet, so they could hear the marching of the National Guard. Enjolras ran to the barricade. _This is it. _His hands were shaking as he pressed against the chairs that made the barricade and held his gun ready. He noticed Éponine, who got a gun somewhere as well and seemed to be ready to fight with them. _I have to get her out. She doesn't even believe in this. She shouldn't die here._

"Who's there?"

"The French revolution!" Enjolras called back and saw Grantaire smiling in approval.

And suddenly there were bullets flying everywhere and the war was upon them and they were all going to die.

Enjolras never felt more alive than at the moment when the National Guard climbed to the top of the barricade and the fight started for real. Somebody screamed at them to pull back, but he was fighting next to Marius and pulling back was the last thing he wanted to do. Now there was someone else fighting next to him, someone too slim to be a student.

"Get out!" he shouted at her.

When she didn't listen, he pushed her off the barricade and he finally pulled back himself. He made sure that Éponine keeps away from the barricade as well.

"Get out," he said again and pushed her towards the café and the alleyways behind it. She surely knew a way out and it was about time she used it.

"Marius, no!" Gavroche screamed.

Enjolras turned around and caught Éponine, who wanted to run back to her beloved. Marius was climbing the barricade, a torch in one hand, a keg of gunpowder in the other. They never found out what he wanted to do. He was probably going to threaten the National Guard and make them pull back. But before he could reach the top, one of the guards fired.

The impact of the bullet turned Marius a little bit, so Enjolras could see his surprised face. He looked a little disappointed, like he wanted to say: _That's all?_ The red stain just under his cockade was growing faster than Enjolras could believe.

As Marius fell down, the torch touched the keg and the world disappeared in flames.

* * *

Enjolras was still holding her when Marius' death unleashed Hell itself. Suddenly they were flying and Éponine was quite sure that she had died and was ascending to Heaven. But what did she do to deserve Heaven? People like her were usually going to the other place.

She hit something soft and lost consciousness.

When she came to her senses again, she realized that she couldn't have been out for more than a minute or two. The National Guard hadn't come yet and the smoke from the explosion hadn't dissolved completely. Students around her were coughing and slowly getting up. She didn't look for Marius, there was no point in looking for someone who had been holding a gunpowder keg when it exploded. The soft thing she hit when she was falling (and it probably saved her life) was Enjolras.

Éponine stood up. What to do now? The National Guard could come any moment and execute anyone they find there. She could already see and hear people running away. There was no Marius to live and die for. The freckled boy and the girl in blue hat burned moments ago. What do you do when the center of you universe is erased from existence?

The soft thing she landed on was Enjolras.

It took a moment to sink in. She knelt next to him. He was unconscious, there were blood stains on the various parts of his body and one of his arms was twisted in an unnatural angle, but he was alive.

She owed him her life, but she never asked to be saved. She could have run to the barricade and take the bullet meant for Marius. She would have been happier that way. Now she had a debt and only a short moment to decide whether or not she should pay it. Would Enjolras want her to save him? He was ready to die at the barricade, just like her. Maybe he even wanted it. But his barricade was blown to pieces and Éponine suspected that so was his revolution.

_If I save you now, you can build a hundred barricades._

She looked around for a way to get Enjolras to safety. Unfortunately there was nothing left of the carts and wheelbarrows used for the barricade and Enjolras was too heavy for her to carry. Her solution emerged from the smoke in the form of coughing Grantaire. She had seen Grantaire before and she had seen the way he acted around Enjolras. In the matter of unrequited love, it takes one to know one.

"Help me with him," she begged.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, his eyes wide and full of fear. "Is he dead?" he asked and his voice broke at the last word.

"Not yet. Help me carry him," she urged him. She could already hear shouting of the Guardsmen coming their way. Enjolras started to stir. "Enjolras, do you hear me? We have to move," she told him, but there was no reaction.

It was when she tried to pick him up, that Grantaire came to his senses and finally made himself useful. Together they dragged Enjolras to a side alleyway. Éponine knocked on one door. Nobody opened, but she could hear someone moving on the other side.

"Madame Girard, I know you are there," Éponine hissed through the door. "It's me, Éponine, and I know everything about your son. If you don't open up, I will tell the National Guard."

There was a pause and Éponine prayed to the God she didn't believe in. Finally the door opened and the tiny figure of old Madame Girard appeared.

"Come in, quickly, before they see you."

* * *

By the time Enjolras woke up, he wished he hadn't. His whole body hurt, his right arm was the worst. It was very dark, so dark that he thought that he might have woken up in his coffin. He reached out with his good arm, but he hit something soft and definitely not wood. Someone clamped a hand over his mouth and he heard a girl's voice whisper in his ear:

"Don't make a sound."

She sounded so urgent that he obeyed. He heard people walking somewhere close by and he felt like he was playing hide and seek. He lay without moving for so long that he passed out again.

The second time he woke up he saw light, a small lamp. It cast some light on two people – Grantiare and that Marius' girl. What was her name again? Eveline?

"I'm just glad that he didn't wake up when the doctor was fixing his arm," Grantaire muttered and took a sip from a bottle.

"Me too. But he should really wake up now," said the girl. No, her name was not Eveline. Epo... Éponine, that was it.

"Éponine," he said aloud. Well, it was not that loud, more like a whisper.

She turned to him and smiled sadly. "Hello there."

Everything was coming back to him. The night in the rain... the revolution... the barricade... the gunpowder keg... Marius...

"Marius," he said.

Éponine's sad smile faded and her eyes welled with tears. "I'm sorry. He's gone. The rebellion is over, defeated. We are on the run. We are hiding in Madame Girard's cellar."

"The others?"

"I don't know. We could barely save you. I didn't have time to go and look for the others."

"Why?" he asked.

"What?" Grantaire looked confused, but Éponine understood. After all, she had understood in the rain, so why wouldn't she now? Grantaire must have convinced her to help him with this, she knew that Enjolras would rather die than run.

"Why save me?"

"You saved me before," Éponine said. "When you didn't let me run to that barricade. I was just returning the favor and Grantaire happened to help."

So it was her idea. Enjolras was so angry that he would try to strangle her, only if he could move. He had told her, he could remember telling her that it was a victory or death matter. Did she forget? Running away was the only way to lose.

"I wanted to die there," he said.

"So did I," Éponine replied.


	3. Life Has Killed The Dream

_Motto: Many that die deserve life, and some that live deserve death. Can you give it to them? (Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring)_

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**I probably had more fun than I should have, writing this. I just love writing angry women. In this chapter we deal with Éponine trying to get the boys to a safer place and Enjolras dealing with the fact that he survived.**

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**3. Life Has Killed The Dream**

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It had been a week since the rebellion and Éponine was busy gathering money. The National Guard was everywhere, which meant she had to be twice as careful. She spent most of her days outside, doing what she did best – being invisible. Enjolras couldn't stay in Paris, and probably not in France either, Grantaire wasn't going to leave him, and those two needed someone who would look after them. Why not Éponine, who had nothing to live for?

Her nights were spent in tears and memories of Marius. The day they first met, the kindness he showed her, every little smile, his speeches, the day he met Cosette, his death... Every time she thought of him, she saw him dying. His face in the light of the torch, the blood on his vest, the keg in his hand.

The ninth day after the rebellion she sneaked in their cellar with bread and some cheese, because Madame Girard refused to feed them, and some jewelery she put in a small basket. _Maman and Papa would be so proud of me,_ she thought and she felt physically sick. The good thing was that the basket was already pretty full. Getting them out was going to be an expensive business.

"Thanks, Éponine," said Grantaire when she passed him his share of bread and cheese. "No wine, by any chance?" he asked hopefully.

"Even if there was, I wouldn't bring you any," she told him. "I need you sober."

"But I need me drunk," Grantaire protested.

"Shut up and eat your dinner. I almost got caught stealing that bread," she snapped and laid another share of food next to Enjolras. He never took it right away, always sulked for some time before hunger overpowered him and he reluctantly ate. She and Grantaire got used to it and stopped trying to persuade him to do something else.

"You can at least thank her," Grantiare said.

"There is nothing to be thankful for," Enjolras grunted.

"It's all right," Éponine said. "I don't expect him to be happy. Tomorrow I'm going to see the man who can make us the documents we need for travel. I'll try to haggle, but I might need a couple more days before we have enough for the documents _and _the journey. Maybe even weeks."

"A journey for two shouldn't be that expensive," said Enjolras.

"You are coming with us," said Éponine. "We didn't carry you to this place so you can sneak out and give yourself over to the National Guard."

"You didn't ask me what I wanted either."

"I knew. I still know. I wasn't sure if saving you was the right thing to do, but you know what convinced me to do it? The barricade was blown to pieces and I knew only you could build another one," she told him.

Enjolras fell silent for a moment and he seemed to be lost in thoughts. Then he quietly said:

"I'm leading no more men to their deaths. One Marius is enough."

"You will find another way to fight," Éponine comforted him. "Just not here."

* * *

A week later they moved to a brothel on the outskirts of Paris. Éponine knew the owner of the place who let them stay in one of the rooms and kept his mouth shut. Madame Girard was not sorry to see her unwelcome lodgers leave and Grantaire was excited about staying in the place where there was so much wine. Éponine didn't show a single emotion, she kept leaving every morning and coming back in the evening with food and money.

Enjolras was getting better. Even though his broken arm was still of no use, he could walk and more or less take care of himself. The problem was he had no idea what to do. Éponine forbade him to go outside because the guards were still looking for him. Grantaire spent most of his time downstairs with the girls, who all doted on him. That left Enjolras alone in their room. Éponine had stolen a book for him, but he couldn't bring himself to open it. This room had a window and much more light than the cellar, but for Enjolras it was just as dark.

After all those speeches about fighting for freedom and dying for it, if necessary, he felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world. The war was lost, the barricades were gone, and here he was, alive and well. Everything he believed in, everything that made him who he was, fell and he did not fall with it. He felt like a naughty child, who threw a tantrum about injustice in the world, and was sent to his room without dinner. Insignificant. A castaway, who survived the storm of his own passionate speeches only to be washed up on the coast of reality. Lost.

Sometimes he pressed his ear against the door and listened to the laughter downstairs. Sometimes he thought he heard Joly or Courfeyrac or Marius laughing. He had always had so many people around him. Some wanted to debate with him, some wanted to follow him, but he had never been what he was now. Alone.

It was the fifth day at the brothel when he figured out a way to still save himself from the black pit he was falling into. When Éponine left and Grantaire went to drink with the girls, Enjolras waited until he was sure that neither of them was coming back. Then he sneaked out.

It didn't take him long to find two National Guardsmen. When he saw them, he was surprised that the only thing he felt was relief. This was the right thing to do. He walked right to them with his head held high.

"I want to turn myself in," he told them.

They looked at him suspiciously and one of them cast a quick glance around, in case Enjolras was just trying to cause distraction from something more important.

"My name is Sebastian Enjolras. I have been at the barricades."

He resisted the temptation to close his eyes and spreading his arms. The guardsmen moved to catch him, when a girl's voice stopped him.

"Étienne, there you are!" Suddenly Éponine was at his side, clutching his hand. "Don't wander off again, you know how you scare Gabriel!"

He looked at her in disbelief. She was ruining his life _again_. Now he had to play along, or he would get her in trouble too. That was not the plan, he was supposed to take this road alone.

"Is there a problem?" she turned to the guardsmen with the most innocent smile Enjolras had ever seen.

"He told us he had been at the barricade," the older guard said.

"Of course he was," Éponine said smoothly and Enjolras did all he could to not look taken by surprise. "They built the damn thing right under our window and kept us awake whole night. We can't leave the house without walking across what's left of it. No wonder poor Étienne got hurt when he fell out of that window."

"What window?" The younger guard looked confounded and Enjolras was really glad that he asked. He was quite curious about the answer.

"Our room is just above that barricade that got blown up, you see. The window was shattered. Terribly expensive thing, I'm going to have to work like a dog to pay for the repair. Poor Étienne tried to fix it the day after, but he fell out. Broke his arm, you see?" she pointed to Enjolras' bandages. "And hit his head too," she lowered her voice. "He's got it all confused. When he woke up, I was out, the National Guard was at our place, and they were asking him about this Sebastian Enjolras, whoever that was. But you see, he got it all mixed up and he thought that they were telling him _he's _Sebastian Enjolras. This is the second time this week he got out. I'm really going to have to talk to Gabriel about keeping an eye on you," she turned to Enjolras. "I'm sorry if he caused trouble, I'm taking him to the country to my sister as soon as I can."

"And you are his...?"

"His wife, of course," Éponine straightened her back and looked positively offended. At this point Enjolras just hoped that his befuddled expression would be regarded as a symptom of his supposed concussion-induced insanity.

"I don't see any ring."

"Had to sell it, now, didn't I? Do you even know how much a new window costs? And doctors?"

"What's his name then? Can we see some documents, Madame?"

She pulled out a bunch of papers from the pocket in her skirt. "Of course, he's Étienne Jondrette, I'm his wife Eveline. Here you go."

_Eveline. _That's the name he called her when they first talked. Did she pick it so that he would remember it?

"Everything seems in order," the older guard finally said after reading her documents and returned them to her.

"Thank you," Éponine flashed a most charming smile at them. "Can I take him home now?"

"Of course. Please, keep a closer eye on him."

"I'm sorry for this. I'll make sure he won't bother anyone else. Come on, you big oaf, let's get you back to bed."

She pushed him it the opposite direction from the brothel, in the direction they would walk to get to the barricade. As soon as they were out of sight, they took a sharp turn and disappeared in the narrow streets. After a few turns they were headed roughly in the direction where the brothel was. Enjolras let her lead him, too confused by what just happened to protest. The only thing he understood was that she somehow managed to spoil another one of his attempts to do the good and honorable thing.

There was a thousand questions on his mind and he didn't know what to ask first. As a consequence he forgot them all and his first sentence when they were safely out of the guards' earshot was:

"Who are you calling oaf?"

"Sorry, I wasn't going to use anything more appropriate in front of them. Like a _fucking dumbass_ for instance. God, I swear I'm going to _kill_ Grantaire!" The sweet charming girl was gone and replaced by a furious dragon.

"I didn't ask you to save me. Neither then, nor now," he reminded her.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do it next time, it's getting a little tedious," she growled.

Under all the layers of guilt Enjolras felt a twinge of anger. "Finally!" he exclaimed.

They marched to the brothel without another word. If it wasn't for her, he would be in peace now. She had every right to be angry at him, but he was angry at her too. It was the first emotion except guilt and self-loathing he had really felt since she dragged him from the barricade.

Éponine stormed into the brothel and screamed for Grantaire. He was already reasonably sober and very much aware that Enjolras disappeared. Éponine led both students to their room and shut the door before she started.

She didn't say a word to Enjolras and he wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not. Instead she turned to Grantiare, who tried to blend into his chair.

"He got out," she said, pointing to Enjolras. "What did I tell you? Keep en eye on him, make sure he doesn't do something stupid. It was as simple as that. And you let him leave and turn himself in!"

"What?" Enjolras had never seen Grantaire pale so fast.

"It was sheer luck that I got the documents and went back here with them. I caught him with two National Guardsmen and they have been ready to take him away. Do you have any idea how close he came to getting executed?"

"Yeah, I think I do," Grantaire nodded, looking at Enjolras with eyes wide with fear.

"And you!" she stabbed her finger in Enjolras' direction and paused, looking for words. Her anger subsided a little. "Just stop it," she told him quietly.

For a moment they were looking in each other's eyes.

"We are leaving the day after tomorrow. As a point of interest, does any of you clever boys speak English?"


	4. Our Little Lives

_Motto: __Yesterday, my life was headed in one direction. Today, it is headed in another. Yesterday, I believe I would never have done what I did today. (Cloud Atlas)_

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**Hi. Today we get a first look on what I like to call Grumpy!Grantaire. Enjolras has to deal with yet another difficult realization. And Éponine show her vulnerable side. A little Grantaire-centric.**

**Please, please, review, I really want to know if you like the story and what are my flaws.**

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**4. Our Little Lives**

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London was loud and dirty and it was raining all the time. People were weird, Éponine couldn't understand them and she missed Paris.

They roamed the streets of London for three days, trying to find a suitable room, with Enjolras posing as her husband and Grantaire as her brother. It wasn't easy because Éponine could barely speak proper French, let alone English, and even though both boys studied English at the university, they were both next to useless. Grantiare remembered only a couple of phrases and his pronunciation was so awful that nobody understood him anyway. Enjolras was sulking and wasn't helping simply on principle.

"Here," she tossed Grantaire an apple. "The best I could do. Want some?" she offered Enjolras another one.

He reluctantly took it. He might have been high and mighty when he had been talking about freedom, but when it came to food, he was at her mercy.

"We could really use some help," Grantiare told him. "We don't enjoy sleeping on the street like you do."

Enjolras didn't say anything and Grantaire kept nagging him. Éponine had heard it a hundred times before, so she just watched the market and let her mind drift to the last night she spent with Marius. The night she lead him to Cosette... Was that the right thing to do?

It had to be thinking about Cosette, because she caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd.

"Stay here," she ordered the boys and followed the person. After a while she was sure. She didn't want to beg, but this could be their best chance.

The man she was following was joined by a blond girl. This was Éponine's chance. She pushed through the crowd and spoke to the girl.

"You are Cosette, aren't you? I'm Eveline, friend of Marius Pontmercy." Cosette froze, as if struck by lightning. Éponine continued: "I saved two of his friends from Paris, but we need help. We don't have a place to stay."

"Marius?" Cosette repeated, not really comprehending anything else.

"I showed him your house that night. I screamed when Thénardier and the Patron-Minette came to rob you. You heard a girl scream, didn't you? I helped you, I need your help now," she begged, thinking mostly of Enjolras and Grantaire. She had to take care of them, her pride didn't matter.

"We can't help you, Mademoiselle," Cosette's father interrupted her. "Come on, Cosette, we have to go."

"Wait, Papa," Cosette said and turned to Éponine. "You said you were his friend. Tell me everything about him, how he lived and how he died, and my father will help you."

"Cosette..." her father began, but she turned to him and looked at him. Éponine thought that her big blue eyes looked older than when she last saw her.

"Papa, please," Cosette said and that did it. Apparently her father would give her anything she asked for.

"Thank you," said Éponine. "Can I just get my boys? If I leave them alone for too long, they might wander off and get in trouble."

Cosette's father gave her his address and she headed back to the corner where she left Grantaire and Enjolras. They were a little confused by her sudden leaving, but fortunately they stayed in place.

She explained things to them on the way to Cosette's house. Grantaire was surprised, Enjolras showed no emotion. Éponine ignored him. She was getting tired of dealing with him. They found the place quite easily – a lovely little house in a lovely little street. Obviously Cosette's father still had money. Everything in the house was neat and tidy and the housekeeper, Mrs. Leroy, could speak French. Cosette had already told Mrs. Leroy to prepare a room for them and give them lunch. Éponine felt like she had found paradise.

But this paradise was rather short-lived. After lunch Cosette called Éponine to her room to talk.

"You two," Éponine pointed at the boys, "stay here. You, stay sober," she warned Grantiare.

"Yes, _Maman_," he smirked.

The girls had the dinner brought to Cosette's room. Éponine came out when it was already dark, but she knew that the boys could still see her red eyes and tears on her cheeks. She went straight to her bed. She listened to Grantaire snoring on a couple of blankets in the corner, result of a good dinner and even better wine, so she concentrated on the sound. It almost worked, but soon the memories of Marius came back and she had to muffle her sobs in the pillow.

She had managed to pull through the weeks after the barricade, she had buried herself in work, she had done all she could to get Enjolras and Grantiare to safety. She had never allowed herself to think of Marius too much, because then she would have realized how much she lost and she would die of broken heart.

_Today I faced it all, _she thought. _And I am still alive. What does it say about me? _She curled in a tight ball and bit her fist to stop herself from sobbing out loud. The physical pain felt better than she expected.

Someone sat on the edge of her bed and gently stroked her hair. Éponine would never admit it, but it made her feel a little better. She took the fist out of her mouth. The person made sure that she was well covered and left.

Grantiare was still snoring in the corner.

* * *

"I know about a man who looks for a French teacher for his three sons," said Cosette's father one day at lunch. "Should I tell him that I know somebody who would be interested?"

"No," said Enjolras at the same moment Éponine said: "Yes, of course."

They glared at each other over a lamb stew.

"I suppose you'll tell me at dinner, then," said Monsieur Fauchelevent calmly.

As soon as lunch was over and they went back to their small room, Éponine turned to Enjolras. He remembered the look she had now. It was the same one she had had when he had sneaked out to turn himself in.

"None of us is a teacher. You can barely read and they would fire Grantaire the first day he would come drunk," Enjolras told her before she could say a word.

"And what about you? What excuse do you have?" asked Grantiare.

Enjolras was surprised. Until now Grantaire cared very little about how they get their money. He seemed quite comfortable with Éponine stealing from them.

"I am not a teacher," Enjolras said. He was destined for something greater than trying to hammer conjugation into some spoiled brat's head.

"Well, you should become one fast," Éponine muttered.

Grantaire stood up. "Aren't you a little tired of this? We are making a girl work and steal for us. Isn't this pretty much what we have been fighting against?"

This was low. Enjolras felt his cheeks flush and he realized that he didn't have anything to say for himself.

"You are one to talk," he said instead. "I don't see you looking for work."

"You don't see a lot of things," Grantaire smirked. "Doesn't mean they don't exist. I talked to Monsieur Dupont who owns a wineshop not far from here this morning. He needs an assistant. If I don't get this job, I will take this teaching one. God help me, I will try and stay away from the booze, so I don't get fired. Because I am tired of someone else earning my living."

Enjolras never knew that his friend was capable of such a passionate speech, let alone giving it sober. And it hurt. He had been so absorbed by his own pain that he didn't see what he was doing to a girl who had lost the love of her life and was crying her eyes out every other night. He became his own worst enemy.

"I am sorry," he told Éponine. It was not nearly enough, but it was all he could do at the moment. "I will take the job."

He met Mr. Regan, his new employer, three days later. Before he left, dressed in Monsieur Fauchelevent old clothes, Éponine reminded him to be polite and keep his opinions to himself. She and Granaire walked him to the corner and he could feel their anxiety all the way to Mr. Regan's house.

Mr. Regan introduced Enjolras to his pupils. The oldest was thirteen and could already speak French quite well. The youngest one was eight and couldn't speak a word, but his older brother was supposed to help him. Mr. Regan insisted on being present during the first lesson, but everything went better than Enjolras expected and his employer seemed rather pleased.

He came back to Monsieur Fauchelevent's house as a man with a job.

Éponine promised their host that they will leave him as soon as they find a place to stay. A week later Grantiare finally came to agreement with the wineshop owner and announced that there were two rooms for rent above the wineshop for reasonable price.

"One would be for the two of you, obviously," he told them, "as you are supposed to be married, and the other one can be mine."

Éponine was so happy that she kissed Grantaire on the cheek. Enjolras felt like the least useful of them three and it irritated him. He used to be the leader, now he was a burden.

"Are we still carrying on with this show?" he asked.

"We don't really have a choice," Éponine said. "I can't pass you for my brother, you still talk like a bourgeois boy."

"So does Grantaire," Enjolras pointed out.

"Not when he is drunk," Éponine smiled. "And considering his new job, I think we're safe."

"And what if you meet someone else?" he asked. "Someone whom you will want to marry?"

All her happiness and smiles were gone in a second and she lowered her head. "I won't," she said simply.

* * *

The first time Enjolras went to work after they moved, Éponine walked to the neighboring room to see Grantaire.

"Hello, _Maman_," he smiled when he saw her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I just wanted to thank you for persuading Enjolras," she said. "I'm glad he's got something to take his mind off of things."

"You're welcome. I felt like you needed some help there. Wine?"

She shook her head. "I didn't need help. I am not exploited. I can take care of myself and I chose to take care of you too. I have been stealing long before I met any of you. It is not his fault."

"Sit down," Grantaire offered her the only chair he had and almost forced the cup of wine in her hand. "I never said the way you grew up was his fault, but we _were _using you. Enjolras needed to realize this. He needs work or he'll just keep thinking about the past and it's going to kill him eventually. And that's something I can't let happen." He looked unusually determined, like he was challenging her to question his actions.

"I am sorry," Éponine bowed her head. "I didn't realize... I mean, I know how you feel." She too would have done anything to get her love back on his feet.

"I bet you do," Grantiare smiled and raised his glass. "To Little Ponine and Capital R. What a couple!"

"To Marius and Enjolras," she toasted.

She stayed in Grantaire's room for a long time and she found out that she liked talking to him. He was practical, realistic, and even though she felt some bitterness in him, he was hiding it behind cheap jokes and more wine.

They talked about Enjolras a little more and Grantaire, who was enjoying his day off and had had more than enough drinks, confessed.

"I know that he thinks I'm no-good, lazy drunk and he's right. When I met him he was like sun and flame and a Greek god. I have never believed in anything, but I could believe in Enjolras. I know what he thought of me, but I stayed anyway. Every day I told myself: _don't go there. Just don't show up_. And I always ended up in Musain. It was like visiting a temple of another religion, just to see the face of your own God.

I knew it was going to kill me, quite literally, but I just had to see him one more time, and the next day it was one more time again. I guess I have an addictive personality," Grantaire said, looking at the bottle in his hand.

"But he is different now," Eponine said quietly. The flame was gone, the sun had set, Apollo had left Olympus.

"He changed," Grantaire agreed. "But I still love him."


	5. Something Has Scarcely Begun

_Motto: For every shadow, no matter how deep, is threatened by morning light. (The Fountain)_

* * *

**Here we are, the chapter where the ship sets sail. Also, the chapter where Grantaire almost kills Enjolras, Enjolras has a new cause to fight for, Éponine for once doesn't have to babysit the boys, and I make almost too much fun of Enjolras. Also, be ready for an unexpected appearance.**

**Please, review, I am interested in what you have to say about the story.**

* * *

**5. Something Has Scarcely Begun**

* * *

When Enjolras laid his first earned money on the table, he looked Éponine straight in the eyes.

"I will take care of you. If I can't help all the poor of France, I'll help at least one. You are under my protection now."

And he made good on his promise. Thanks to Mr. Regan's recommendations he found another two families who needed French teacher. He earned enough for them to live comfortably. From his first saved money he bought Éponine a new emerald green dress.

He didn't know why he was doing it. Perhaps this was another battle of his war. He lost the first one and even though he didn't know what enemy he was fighting now, he wasn't going to lose this one.

Éponine found a job too, in a florist's shop. When she came home, she smelled of roses and lilies. The first day she wore her new green dress to work, she came home with a white rose in her hair. That day Enjolras looked at her and for the first time in a long time he didn't see the annoying little girl, who refused to let him die, but he remembered the ragged young woman, whose hand met his in the rain.

With all three of them working, they could afford to give a few pennies to the charity now and then. Also sometimes, when he was home alone, Enjolras would try to write essays on republic and social justice. He was hiding them from Éponine, because he thought she would not approve. It was funny how important one girl's approval became. Perhaps it was because he didn't want her to think that she had saved someone unworthy. He mentioned it to Grantaire once. His friend gave him a sad smile and said: "What, Plato didn't mention this?"

Enjolras didn't know what he meant and Grantaire refused to elaborate.

Winter slowly came and went. There was a bet between Enjolras and Éponine whether or not would Grantiare drink himself to death before Christmas. On the Christmas Eve Éponine collected her winnings and toasted to Grantaire's newfound moderation. Not that he was abstinent, but he wasn't drunk _all _the time, and that was what counted.

Spring came early that year. One night, just at the beginning of March, Enjolras woke up just before dawn to see that the other bed in the room was empty. He quickly dressed and set out to look for Éponine. He didn't have to go far. She was sitting in the empty wineshop downstairs and sipping on a cup of wine.

"What happened?" he asked her.

"Nightmare," she replied. "I needed to get out."

"Marius?"

She nodded.

He took a clean cup from the shelf and poured himself a drink too. He sat opposite of her in silence. He had been having bad dreams too and he wished they were only about Marius. His were much more varied. Marius had been there, of course, but all the others had been visiting him too. Combeferre. Courfeyrac. Joly. Bossuet. Jehan. Feuilly. Bahorel. Little Gavroche.

After a while he heard footsteps and Grantaire appeared in the doorway. He didn't say a word, only got himself a cup and sat between them. They remained silent for a long time before Grantaire started humming. It was only when Éponine started singing the lyrics, that Enjolras recognized an old drinking song.

"Drink with me, to days gone by..."

She had a beautiful voice. Somehow he thought it would be great for lullabies. He didn't sing very well, but he joined her anyway.

"Sing with me, the songs we knew..."

Finally, Grantaire joined in as well.

"Here's to pretty girls who went to our heads..."

They sang and remembered every one of their friends. There was hope that at least some of them had survived the rebellion, but they had no way of finding that out.

"At the shrine of friendship never say die..."

The first rays of sun painted the whole wineshop gold and Éponine, who had been sitting with her back to the window, suddenly acquired a halo. She didn't exactly look like Virgin Mary, more like Mary Magdalene, but she was still beautiful. The day was dawning, tomorrow became today, and it was time to wash the cups and live their new life.

* * *

In the middle of March Éponine got ill. She woke up in the middle of the night feverish and with a nasty cough. She could barely get up from bed and there was no way she could go to work.

Enjolras woke Grantaire and made him fetch a doctor. Meanwhile he covered Éponine with his blanket and through the haze of fever and headache she noticed one thing – he was worried. She saw him flinch and cast a nervous glance to the door every time she coughed.

The doctor stated that it was nothing too dangerous, just a common cold. He recommended her a syrup and a few days of rest. As soon as the doctor left, Enjolras sent Grantaire, who had already looked exasperated and sullen for being dragged out of bed so early, to the apothecary.

"When he comes back, I'm going to send him to Mr. Regan to tell him that I can't come to teach the boys today," Enjolras promised Éponine.

"You can teach and you will. I can stay here on my own for a while. Grantaire can check up on me," she replied.

"I will find you something to eat at least," Enjolras insisted.

Éponine felt nauseated at the mere mention of food.

"I think I won't eat today," she muttered.

Panic flickered in Enjolras' eyes. "You have to!" he said loudly. "You have to keep up your strength," he added more gently.

She was so surprised by his passionate reaction that she didn't protest. Enjolras kept acting like mother hen for the rest of the day, to the point when Grantaire had to almost kick him out of the room or Enjolras wouldn't even go to work.

"Now we know that Joly's dead," said Grantaire darkly when he made sure that Enjolras was really gone. "Enjolras is surely possessed by his spirit."

Éponine laughed, which resulted into another coughing fit. Grantaire let her rest and she fell asleep the moment door closed behind him. Her dreams were a wild mix of broken chairs, green fabric, cockades, white roses, fire, and wine. Marius was climbing the barricade to Heaven. Cosette stood on the top of the barricade, dressed in white, singing an angelic hymn. Enjolras was there too, falling, the darkness below the barricade waiting for him, and Éponine woke up.

Enjolras was there and he coaxed her into eating some soup. Then he sat on the edge of her bed.

"Are you warm enough? Do you want anything else?"

"I'm fine, really. I've had worse," she assured him. Ever since her parents had lost the inn, she was on the street, stealing and begging every day, no matter how she felt. She didn't remember the last time she could actually stay in bed when she was sick. There had never been anyone to take care of her like this.

"Just tell me if you need anything. Don't hesitate to wake me, if you get worse during the night," he told her.

"There is no reason to worry," she said. "It's just a cold."

Enjolras' face darkened. "I had a cousin. He was ten years older than me and he was great. He was the first person to tell me about the principles of republic. The year before I left for Paris he fell ill. At first they said it was common cold too. It turned out to be consumption. Now every time I hear someone cough, I remember of Antoine."

"It's all right," Éponine whispered and nestled down in the bed.

"Get some rest," he said and started to get up, but she caught his arm and made him stay.

"Tell me a story," she asked.

"I don't know any stories."

"You must have lived a thousand stories," Éponine whispered. "You must remember at least one."

"Fine. I can tell you about the town where I was born, I suppose," he smiled.

She closed her eyes and pretended she was a little girl from the inn again. That evening she fell asleep listening to tales of his childhood in the south and no bad dreams came that night.

* * *

"Do you like this?" Enjolras asked her one Sunday when they were walking in the park. "Being a respectable lady?"

"I do, but you know just as well as I do, that I'm not that respectable," she smiled.

"It was your idea," Enjolras muttered and rubbed his left hand, where he wore a wedding ring. Éponine insisted on buying rings as soon as they had money for them. The last thing they needed was attention.

This spring was most strange. It had been ten months since Marius' death on the barricade, yet the world went on. The rebellion was all but forgotten and the three friends had already discussed the possibility of returning to France. Éponine was not sure whether or not she wanted to. In Paris she was a nobody, in London she was Madame Jondrette. In Paris she was alone. Here she had Grantaire... and Enjolras.

Maybe it was living in the same room, but she and Enjolras became quite close. She told him of her childhood in the inn and of her life in Paris. He told her his own memories from when he was little, and sometimes, when he was in good mood, he even told her of Les Amis. Grantaire joined them quite often, but even though he was a great friend, her relationship with Enjolras was different. Éponine liked Grantaire, but she felt like she _needed _Enjolras.

"I know it was my idea. Don't forget that it was my idea to save your life, too," she reminded him.

"Don't worry, I remember that one. I shall use it against you when the time is right," he told her with a smile.

She laughed and linked arms with him. They slowly walked to the end of the park, still joking. Suddenly they heard someone calling them.

They turned to see Grantaire running to them with a wild look in his eyes. His hair was disheveled and he forgot his coat somewhere. Éponine first thought was that he drank too much, but when he stopped in front of them, she saw that he was sober.

"You have to come with me. Now." He grabbed Enjolras by the arm and tugged him to the nearest street. "I have a cab waiting."

"What's going on?" Enjolras asked.

"You have to see this for yourself. It's... it's..." Grantaire was almost crying, but it was hard to tell if those were tears of joy or sorrow. "It's unbelievable," he finished.

He refused to tell them anything else. The cab ride was short, but even in the little time it took, Éponine thought of a hundred things that could have happened. But she would never have guessed the truth.

Grantaire took them home. He almost pushed them out of the cab, paid the cabman, and dragged Enjolras and Éponine up the stairs to his room. He opened the door and gestured them inside.

Enjolras went first and for a moment Éponine thought he would faint.

Then she finally saw the surprise and thought she would faint herself.

"Told ya he's not dead," said a child's voice.

On Grantaire's only chair sat Courfeyrac and on the bed next to him Gavroche grinned widely at the dumbstruck Enjolras and Éponine.


End file.
